It went from my head and out through my feet! Wonder what that means? I give you three guesses or maybe I should just reveal the meaning! But to get to that a little background. When my grandson left India a few months ago he spoke Hindi like a native, English with a pwhy why tinge and a spattering of French with an undecipherable accent. Then he left us and flew to St Louis in the Missouri. He quickly learnt all the ‘Oh man!’ and other local expressions and in spite of our I would say meagre efforts to speak to him in Hindi on Skype and spite of his regular watching of Chotta Bheem and his mom’s occasional Hindi tirades, we slowly realised that his Hindi was slowly and ineluctably being devoured by Midwest American if such a language there is. And has he speaks at an incredible speed Nani and Nanou sometimes needed an interpreter aka his mom, to understand what we were being told.

When his mom one day asked him why he had forgotten his Hindi his first answer was that it was broken, then more recently he came up with the statement cited above: his Hindi went from his head out through his feet.

At present the house is almost like a Tower of Babel with all kind and shades and hues of Hindi and English being spoken everyone trying to communicate at best. It is really amusing seeing Radhey the auto driver speaking his version of Hinglish and the rest of the staff making yeoman’s effort at conversing with the prodigal boy and Utpal is practicing his English. He is here for two months and I wonder whether his Hindi will shoot back to his head or whether the rest of his favourite gang will find his version of English crawling slowly from  their feet to their heads!

The best language classes I have ever witnessed!

My little grandson is back. He will fly in tonight and revive our home and hearts for the next 2 months and one week. The last months have been bleak for more reasons than one. Nanou has not been well, Nani has been running like a headless chicken not knowing which way to go, or what to tackle first and quite honestly not been very good at keeping things on course. But to my little Angel Nani is the best girl in the world! So Nani aka me, has to put her best face on, her best foot forward and live up to the little chap’s expectations. The last week has been hectic: trying to finish Utpal’s homework – dreaded each and every year particularly the innumerable pages of inane writing that still sort of incomplete –   so that the rest of the holidays can be spent playing and having fun. Now with the mercury at 45 plus, a lot of planning is required specially with a boy whose mom is very strict on TV viewing and a child who cannot stay indoors.

Utpal has been a huge help as we have set up the playroom. washed all the old toys and brought some new ones and loads of crayons and paint so that the boys can be creative. The old air conditioner has been repaired and all fingers crossed. But there will still be the power cuts and the fact that Agastya moves like a bolide across the house. As the trusted Doc is on leave for the next three weeks, a visit was made and all the medication for all the potential problems that could arise has been bought and kept in the medicine cabinet.

All the favourite foods have been bought and put in the fridge or the store room. The favourite menu of pharatha, dal and alu gobhi (flat bread, lentils and potato and cauliflower curry) has been ordered. Just need to buy some bits and bobs and we are ready for the return of the beloved child! I am thrilled beyond words at the fact that Utpal still has a month holiday and the two little loves of my life can bond and play to their heart’s content under Nani’s moist eyes.

But just like Utpal, Nani has not been good with her homework. I still do not know what colour Percy or Gordon are and have still not seen Toy Story 2 and learnt about Buzz whatever is name is. And it took me visits to a 6 toy shops to find one Buzz! They seemed to be out of stock.

The next weeks are going to hectic and for all the right reasons. Welcome home beloved Agastya!

Heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of wrote Blaise Pascal. This saying often crops in my mind when I find myself doing something that defies my Cartesian upbringing and my ever questioning mind. Yet I often find myself sprouting out words that seem to bypass reason, or agreeing to something that seems more than ludicrous, or extending my hand while my reason is screaming that there is no way ahead. I guess these are the times when the heart takes over, or to once again quote the Little Prince, I see, hear and speak with my heart. I guess we have all had our share of such instants, and I am sure Descartes must have had them too!

Of the occurrences that come to mind I could cite the day when a man came hobbling on a stick and sought monetary help for the operation of his son, and I heard myself say instinctively: I’ll see what I can do. As the words were uttered, reason took centre stage and reminded me that the sum that was being asked was what it cost us the run project why for one whole month. But what was said was said and we conjured the amount. The child in question is now in class XII! Subsequently we sponsored more than 18 heart surgeries. And what about the instance when while reading a medical discharge slip of a little child with third degree burns that stated that his chances for survival were close to nil, I found myself looking into his eyes and saying to his desolate mother: he will live! Today he is all of 11 and a lovely lad studying in class VI!

Over the past years there have been such occasion where I have promised the moon and managed to fulfil my promises. And every time some miracle happened. Reason did not find a suitable answer but I did. I created my God of Lesser Beings who was the one who made me say the seemingly absurd words and then ensured that everything played to his perfect script. The last instance even baffled me. This how he it went: as I was above to leave the office and had settled book in hand in my three wheeler, a man came to me seeking monetary help for his wife’s surgery. It had been along time since we had stopped medical help as most of the donors had vanished. In spite of every things screaming against my saying yes, I did! Within hours we had the money pledged. A gentle reminder that my God of Lesser Beings had not finished his plans for me.

For the past few months, my life partner has been unwell, and no one has been able to diagnose the problem. Reason failed and stood exposed. So I found myself knocking at every door that could help. I was told that he was going through a bad astrological period and I should perform some prayers. I did. Then someone told me to keep a wow and visit the Kalka Temple every day for 40 days. For one who is agoraphobic it was asking the impossible. Reason reminded me gently and then forcefully of all the instances when I had fainted in crowds. But I accepted without batting an eyelid and go every morning to the said temple. Someone else suggested the offering of alcohol to Lord Bhairon. I do it every Saturday. I am sure that I will accept the next suggestion without hesitation.

As Pascal said Heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of !

I am hurt! I had thought that some passed aberrations that plagued my personal life for quite some time had been, if not healed, at least laid to rest. I had made my peace with all the ugly and unnecessary yet distressing events that shook the very core of my family  and have left scars that can never heal on the soul of one who has never hurt a fly.

Every family has its share of issues and problems, some real, some imaginary and some created with animus. The panacea of all problems, big or small is and will always be honesty and communication remembering that there is always two sides to any conflict. When you chose to resolve a conflict by listening to only one side it always results in hostility that slowly mutates to at best indifference, or most of the times hatred.

Communicating at an early stage with all protagonists brings solutions that can lead to healing or at least understanding. When you chose to take sides all that happens is ugly words and more words, some so reprehensible that there is no coming back. One of the lessons of my parents that I cherish the most, was to always think before you speak, specially in a situation of conflict. When I was little, my mother never reprimanded me on the spot, but waited for the right moment to talk over what had happened.

Unfortunately in my situation the worst was said. I would have kept quiet and I did, till the day when unacceptable remarks were uttered about the ones I love. I withdrew and preferred keeping away and silent as I am no saint, and the things that were mouthed would had resulted in more hurt had I decided to counter them.

Alas, in spite of hoping that the status quo would remain, circumstances beyond one’s control entailed  communication and resulted in pain and anger. My simple statement urging to keep things as they were led to my being hit below the belt.

In any situation there is a thin line that should never be crossed. Once it is then, you must be prepared for the consequences. The accusation that was flung at me crossed that invisible line. I was told I do not value relationships because of a turbulent childhood and because of having no siblings!

Let us begin with the ‘turbulent’ childhood. In the dictionary turbulent means characterised by conflict disorder or confusion. I wish people understood words before using them! My childhood was a blessed one, devoid of any conflict or disorder. True it may not have been your run in the mill one as my father’s job took us the different part of the world and thus I had to deal with rupture and partings. True I had older parents who smothered with love and I admit that made me a rebel in my teens, but it was all par to the course. There was no confusion as my parents inculcated the right values and never made me believe I was a class apart. I went to regular schools and not those where expat kids went. I was never confused about who I was. I was primarily Indian with a western education. My parents taught me to  value relationships to the hilt.

I had a sibling but never knew him. I do miss him, more so today when I feel so alone and lost. I often wonder what my like would have been if he were around. I recently wrote about my feelings should anyone care to read them. I am who I am because my brother passed away. I do not understand how not having a sibling makes you incapable of valuing relationships.

And last of all I am quite shocked to be told that I do not value relationships. It have actually been checked for believing in people at the drop of a hat and have many a times paid for my credulity.

I value relationships more than anything. But if a relationship crossed the invisible line then for me it is curtains as once the line has been crossed nothing can ever heal the hurt incurred.

I know I will have to face my Maker, and I will face him with my head held high.

PS. Needed to write this post. It is my catharsis.

“People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said. “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose” wrote St Exupery in the Little Prince, a book that I have always found solace in. To some it may just be a children’s story but to me every word has a deep meaning and hidden  but only if you read the book with your heart. This quote is not about a fox and a rose but about going all the way when you extend a hand  to someone in need. If you do so there is no going back; there is no half measure and above all there is no certitude to how the future will enfold. You can make all the plans you want but you must be prepared for them to go awry and for you to have to conjure all the solutions needed. It is a one way road and you have to walk it till the end.

Two Angels landed in my life without any warning and changed my life forever. The first was Manu. Manu was the kind of being you pass on the street and never look at. To many he would be just a beggar who seemed deranged and bedraggled. He roamed a street I passed regularly. I often wondered what could have got him there, but it was a fleeting thought that disappeared in a trice. But one fateful day a heart rendering cry he let out as he was being riled by someone pierced my heart and soul in a way that I cannot describe in words. It was like a deafening cry for help targeted at me and demanding to be heard. I did hear it. The rest is history, something I have written about time and again. Manu was a mirror to my soul, the reason that really made me take the less travelled road. His mission as I see it was to show me the way at a time when I was somewhat confused and did not know which way to go. All I knew at that instant was that I had to help him. How to help a beggar who roams the streets is not written in any book, you just have to find your way. And in finding my way, a larger plan enfolded called Project Why! I made myself a promise that no one knew till maybe much later. Manu would one day have a warm bed, a set of friends; would share a meal around a table, and would watch TV to his heart’s content. To many it would have sounded ludicrous but to me it became a life and death decision.  At that moment the ‘how’ and ‘when’ were of no consequence. As time passed we moved a step at a time towards a dream that I rested in the recesses of my mind.

Project Why grew by leaps and bounds. Every day was better than the previous specially for Manu. He was bathed, fed and had his own bed in the veranda of what was our office. And when we launched our class for special kids, he was Roll no !1 So to some perhaps it could seem that the game was over, never mind the dining table or the TV. Not not for me. The small challenges and big ones we managed to overcome gave me the audacity to start dreaming big, too big. Was it hubris? I do not know. Maybe.

The idea emerged in my mind when we began thinking about long term sustainability. While on the ground the ideas were mundane – chocolates, earthen lamps, candles, paper bags and even pongamia oil soaps – my mind was busy conjuring what came to be know as Planet Why! In its first iteration that was in my head it was to be a place where Manu and his mates could grow old and die with dignity. I imagined a green building, with terracotta bricks and old style floors, with arches and little windows that would let the breeze in. It would be Manu’s home, and workplace as he was able enough to learn gardening. And the strange things is that many believed in this dream. We bought the land, drew the architectural plans and set out looking for funds. But then on a cold January Day in 2011, my dreams did not fit with those of the Gods of Lesser beings. They decided Manu had completed his mission and he breathed his last leaving me lost and rudderless. There would be no Planet Why for Manu. The best I could  do was to craft a small residential unit where Manu and a bunch of special and regular kids lived together. Yes there was a dining table, there was a TV, there was a refrigerator and cold water and special treats. Often it was Manu who decided the menu and of course we never ran out of biscuits, Manu’s all time favourite. Manu died quietly after having had his tea and biscuits. The Angel who sustained and protected me for more than a decade flew away leaving me with one unanswered question: did I fulfil the silent promise I had made to myself. When I feel a little lost , all I have to do is look at his smiling face that sits on my wall frozen in time and remember that the only way to honour his memory is to continue my journey.

The second Angel that landed on my planet was a broken one! True I had tapped his little head many a times as he lived in a tiny room adjacent to my office. He was barely one and his mother use to bathe him outside just around the time I walked into my office. He was a bonny boy with incredibly beautiful eyes. I often asked his mother when she would send him to the creche and she use to reply soon! One day in March 2002 I saw a lock on the door of their house. I was told the little fellow had fallen in to a boiling wok and was dead! I felt terrible but thought that with third degree burns maybe death was a better option than a maimed life. Imagine my surprise when I week later I was told that the baby was back! He had been sent home to die was what I was told! I walked into their tiny home and saw him swathed in bandages and as I looked into his eyes something happened and I simply said: he will live. The first few months were spent fighting for his life and every day we were treated to miracles. Soon his wounds were healed and he met all his milestones on time.

I had discovered by then that his mom was an alkie. And there I was, making plans again! We would find them a nicer home, I would give the mom a job and when he was older he would go to a good school and .. the list was endless. But the bottle was too big an adversary and even after many rehabs mom was back drinking and the child living in pure hell. When he was just 4, I sent him to boarding school. And when he was 6 his mom vanished. By then I had got his partial guardianship from the authorities. I have often written about Utpal’s story on this blog and shared the lovely and touching moments we have lived together. He has also taught me many things about life and about myself. I also made my dream of being published true as it is for him and about him that I wrote Dear Popples.

Today he is a lovely boy in class VI, a master on skates, and a regular kid who can be trying at times like any regular 11 year old! But he is a bundle of joy and a child that can amaze you many a times in the most touching manner. It has been a slow and difficult road to make him believe that he is cared for and find answers for questions that none. The most poignant one being: where is my mother? You do not lie to a child and the only honest answer you can come up with is: I do not know?  And for a kid that is not enough. Utpal had to go into therapy to deal with difficult questions in school be it what do you parents do, or sneer at his scars. Children can be very cruel. That is only one aspect of the tale. Coming back to the rose, and the fox and the responsibility, as that is where we began, reaching out to another is never as simple as one would like to think. You find a scalded kid, you nurse him back to health because you have the wherewithal, you peep into his life and find out the issues that need to be sorted out, you again think you can do it, you make plans way into the future because you think you can foresee it, and sit back and wait to watch the script you have written play itself out. But then everything goes awry and you find yourself having to rewrite it word after word as events beyond your control engulf you and you need to find your breath to carry on. So the fairy tale that began as once upon a time there was a child you got burnt and saved, his mother found a good job, the child went to school and university and found a good job and they lived happily ever after, turns into a survival story with rude awakenings at every turn.

Today Utpal’s future has to be rewritten without drama, one day at a time. You have to be prepared to do so: deal with the tantrums, the homework – my bete noire – with the tears and the questions. But you are rewarded with the smiles, the hugs, the unexpected occurrences like finding him ready at 6 am to accompany me to the temple when normally you have to battle to wake him up. You have to make him accept that he has a home and security and make others understand that he has no other place to go.

And last but not the least you have to think of the after Maam’ji days and craft a support mechanism wich can deal with the emotional as well as the financial side. Someone to mentor him, to guide him through his life and be with him at every step, and also ensure that he is never a financial liability to anyone. So it is time to create a Trust Fund for him now. I have been mulling over it and procrastinating for far too long.

It this story I do not know know who tamed who, but I know I am the one responsible for the little Angel who dropped into my life and changed it forever.

Exactly one year ago, almost to the day I was learning about Chutki, Doraemon and seeing Mamma Mia at least 4 times a day! You guessed my teacher was no other than my grandson Agastya. I had also mastered expressions like: this is my spot! The preferred toys were cars of all kinds and of course the oko aka auto rickshaw. My baby could digest a car a day and Nani was there to make it happen much to the displeasure of Mommy! For the past months my darling lives in St Louis and when we talk on skype I have to ask my daughter what he is saying as there are new expressions in his Midwest vocabulary that old Nani does not know.

Last time he kept on saying: To infinity and Beyond and I was lost as I am not  Toy Story savvy and do not know Buzz Light Year. You would not believe me but t I have been by told by my little fellow that when he lands, and that is in 5 sleeps as he says – for the uninitiated after you have slept five nights –  he will test me on the names all of Thomas the Engine and his friends and the colour they are.  I must confess I know the names but am not yet proficient in the colours. Have 5 sleeps to brush them up and learn up on Buzz whoever he is.

I like the expression to Infinity and Beyond. Somehow it appeals to me. When you google for its meaning this is what you get: There, and anywhere else, it is a hyperbole, i.e. a purposeful statement of excess beyond reason,  exaggeration as a rhetorical device or figure of speech.  There is no reasonable meaning to the term. It has amusement value. I would interpret it in a different manner. Maybe it just means walking the less travelled road, or even the road never travelled!
I like that!

Now back to my homework. I have only 4 sleeps to do it!